


Pull Free

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Multi, OTP Feels, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Sharing, Spitroasting, alternate universe - courtesan intelligence officers, dehumanization/objectification to some extent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Kinktober 4th prompt: spitroasting.As a successful party winds down, Finn finds Poe and ends up sharing him with one last client.





	Pull Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hegemony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/gifts).

> there's a whole THING about Finn and Poe as Jedi courtesans, okay? Not necessary to understand this particular piece of filth, but it exists.

The challenge — some, not Finn, might say the _problem_ \- of throwing such elaborate parties comes in being truly present. He might prefer to stay out of sight, fussing over the details and shadowing the staff, but he has to be right in the middle of everything. He's the host as well as the subject. As preoccupied as he is, he can't let on.

His feet hurt and his eyes burn. He hasn't had much to drink, yet fatigue resembles drunkenness. He leaves his elegant slippers and pads through the cool grass and across the smooth stones.

At least the night is nearly over. What's more, it seems to have been a success. Rose is pink-cheeked and chuckling, sprawled across a wide cushion abutting one of the fountains. She has two of Poe's colleagues flanking her; six pairs of hands and three smiles, everything undulating in the silvery light off the water.

She waves to him as he passes and he bows in response.

"Go have some fun," she calls after him. "Of all people, you've earned it."

"Later," he replies without turning around.

"Take a party favor or three!" Her new friends shriek with laughter at that.

He keeps going, around the outer walk of the garden, into the public areas before the house proper. Here the columns are wreathed with tiny chips of light and perfume bombs, but the whole expanse is open to the sky. The shadows are shifting and changeable here, occasionally bisected by the glow from the interior.

The musicians left an hour or so ago, so the music he hears now is just someone idly fingering the instruments inside. He draws up short, however, when what he'd taken for throaty amateur singing is revealed to be something else entirely.

There's Poe, kneeling on the marble before a low bench, head buried in an old man's lap. Poe's naked, having at some point lost the little swath of silk they'd wound around his waist this afternoon. His mask's long gone, his hair a riot in the man's hands, and his shoulders bow and flex as he moans. The marks of canes and softer hits stretch, contract, stretch again as his head bobs.

"I was looking for that," Finn says, and leans against a pillar to watch. The stone is still slightly warm from the heat of the day, even this late.

"Be done in a sec," the old spacer says thickly. Silvery hair falls across his brow as he looks down. "So good."

"Among the best, yes," Finn says.

At that, Poe groans more loudly. Finn pushes off from the pillar and kicks lightly at Poe's thigh. Closer now, he can see one of Poe's eyes, wide and watchful as he works the cock with his mouth. His cheek distends, then his throat.

"Actually," Finn says, then hesitates. The old pirate shrugs and grins at him. He's a handsome bastard, like all of Lando's friends, untrustworthy to the last, but you'll never want to stop kissing him. "May I share?"

"Please," he replies, and winks at Finn. "Something of an honor."

"Too kind." All the politesse continues, whether you're sharing a finger bowl or a party favor. 

Finn hauls Poe up by the hair, the pirate by the elbow, and rearranges them as smoothly as he makes any improvement. The old bastard straddles the bench now with Poe prostrate on the bench, ass hanging off.

"There," Finn says, stepping back to get a sense of the whole. 

The pirate's cheek hollows as he throws back his head. "Hurry up, handsome. Not gonna last long, not like this—"

Finn opens his skirts and sinks to his knees behind Poe. "He loves this."

"No fucking —" The old man bites his lip and his hips buck. 

Poe gets one knee underneath him and thrusts back, offering himself. His crack is open, the night's fun painted across his skin in smears and swirls. When Finn sinks halfway inside, a shudder goes through Poe. The pirate feels it, levels his gaze on Finn as he grabs Poe's cheek and thrusts in harder.

"Word is, you're special," he gets out between pants and bitten-off curses. "To each other. Sweet, like."

Poe pushes on Finn, coaxes him deeper, but Finn stops him with a palm on one cheek. Stops him, makes him hold still, and pushes the rest of the way fast and rough. Poe's as hot as ever inside, slick and sticky both, as he raises and lowers his hips.

"I love all my comrades," Finn says. "They're all excellent—"

His smirk tilts up as he pulls Poe's head back as far as it can go. He stands up and fucks Poe's throat at this obscene angle, grunting on the downstroke, working out every last wet sound from Poe's mouth. Their cockheads might as well be touching, skidding against each other, the way they're sharing Poe like this.

"You never thought about taking this one off the market?"

"Not my call," Finn admits. None of what Poe does is under Finn's control. That's the whole point, isn't it? If it weren't, if this body — clutching hole, bruised beautiful skin, reckless smile — were to be owned and directed, Finn might as well have never left the Order. Never freed Poe, never vanished with him.

He's fucking slowly now, contemplatively, maybe even gentling the thrusts as the old man nears his end and gets choppier. His breath is harsh, his expression contorted. The force of his cock resounds down Poe's body, to the root of Finn's own cock, and pulls him in, deeper and deeper.

"You or Organa ever taking offers," the man says, "you let me know first. Make it worth everyone's while."

Finn doesn't say anything. The party's just about done. Rose is happy. Poe is happy. Finn himself is getting there, hands on Poe's hips now as he leans over Poe's back and grinds in. When the pirate comes on Poe's face, they're there together; some of it splatters Finn's chin, though the majority streaks across Poe's nose and cheek. They shuffle forward as the old man tucks himself away and slaps Poe's face in farewell, and now Finn has a knee on the bench and Poe's pushing back, twisting around, seeking blindly for a kiss.

"Where the hell's your mask?" Finn needs to know.

Poe laughs and shakes in Finn's arms, covering them with his own as he bucks and sinks on Finn's cock. "It'll turn up."

"Not acceptable," Finn tries to say, but Poe's guiding his hand down to his dick, tamped down and engorged. When Finn draws light nails down the shaft, Poe moans and begs for it.

"You can do that in your sleep," Finn says. "Make me believe it."

"Please," is all Poe gets out, his voice hoarse and muffled as he tries to push his face against Finn's neck. He's corkscrewed around, so tense and tremoring that it'll take several massage sessions to relax him, and he's twisting more. "Please."

He stinks like everyone who's fucked him tonight, everyone who toyed with him. Musk and sweat, perfume and the sweet tang of Naboo cosmetics. Lube and more spunk of several kinds than ordinary people could imagine. The harder Finn thrusts inside him, chasing some stupid daydream — deep enough, he can fill Poe entirely, lock himself in, never pull free — the more Poe shakes and asks and holds on tight.

"I believe you," Finn tells him as they collapse again. He drives in and the orgasm that wrenches through him is exhausted, stressed, too sharp to be entirely pleasant, but it's inside and Poe is whispering his name and milking the last from him.

The night-wasps are starting to sing in the bushes and the eels in the fountains are splashing, setting out on the hunt. The last of the party dwindled away while he stopped here. Finn closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against Poe's shoulder blade and slowly comes back to himself.


End file.
